


Maybe in a Dream

by kams_log



Series: Destiel Prompts & One Shots [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Dreams vs. Reality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Poisoning, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, djinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is kidnapped by a Djinn in a hunt gone wrong. Castiel and Sam are hot in pursuit, but will they get there in time before Dean is sucked in by the fantasy of the Djinn?</p><p>(Dean wakes up in a reality where he and Castiel are married, and all his friends and family are alive and well. He knows something is wrong, but whenever Cas is nearby, Dean finds it's incredibly easy to pretend that nothing is wrong at all.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanAndHisCas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanAndHisCas/gifts).



> came up with this after reading a brief one shot. i'm so sorry for the angst, but i promise it ends well. seriously.

Dean was awoken by the tingling sensation of light on his eyelids. His nose scrunched against it, and he rolled over onto his side, promptly burying his head underneath his pillow and groaning.

It was too early. He’d barely been sleeping for weeks now, and this had to be the first time he’d had an honest to God peaceful rest. He couldn’t even remember the last time he slept dreamlessly. It was peaceful, like what heaven’s bliss should have felt like.

But if the sun was up, that undoubtedly meant Sam was already up. That mutant rose with the birds, Dean was sure. But if Sam was awake, that meant it was only a matter of time before he barged in with a newspaper and a sharpie, ready for whatever the next hunt of the week could be.

Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes, wondering if it was past ten yet or not. If it was before, Dean was going back to bed.

But when he opened his eyes, his heart nearly stopped beating. Nearly.

This was not the motel. In fact, didn’t he go to bed in the bunker?

Dean jolted upright, sleep completely forgotten in favor of scanning his surroundings.

It looked like some old rustic cabin bedroom. The walls were wood, and on the floor was a shaggy white carpet with blue trim. The bed he lay in was a king, and the comforter and sheets were a mix of different shades of blue and white. It was twisted up in a disturbing fashion, which only could have meant a restless night.

But that didn’t make sense, because Dean was pretty sure he hadn’t dreamt at all. In fact, he was starting to believe he must have been drugged. Because there was no way he came here himself.

Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed, quietly rising to his feet and continuing to look around.

There was a large window above a heavy wood desk. The tinted yellow drapes drifted in the draft of the open screen, and Dean slowly closed it, staring outside in wonder.

The sun was nearly blinding overhead, but from the earlier breeze, Dean could only guess it was still early morning. Definitely earlier than ten. But clouds drifted through the sky like puffs of cotton candy, and there were rolling hills in the distance that looked like something out of a fantasy.

Closer to the house, Dean could see a collection of odd looking boxes. He squinted, then felt his eyes widen.

Was he on… a bee farm?

He shook his head anxiously, willing himself to remember how he got to this place. But it was no use.

He looked down at the desk, quickly spotting picture frames sitting neatly across the edge. Maybe he could find out something about whoever kidnapped him. Because that was the only explanation he could come up with.

But when his eyes landed on the photo in front of him, his heart really did stop.

He was staring at a picture of himself, in a tuxedo with a white rose on his lapel. He was beaming, all rows of white teeth and rosy cheeks, and beside him, holding Dean’s hands, was Castiel. Also in a matching tuxedo and rose.

Behind them was an alter. Cas was kissing his cheek.

Dean dropped the photo with a thud, numb as the glass shattered and spread across the hardwood floor and rug.

“Dean?” A voice called, and Dean felt his hands begin to shake as he slowly looked over his shoulder.

In the doorway, Castiel stood. He looked… domestic. His hair was in disarray, his face flush with morning sleepiness and eyes bright with worry. He was barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt far too big for him and looked strikingly similar to Dean’s favorite shirt. In his hands was a tray of food and drinks, but Cas didn’t look the least bit interested in it. His eyes were trained solely on Dean, who felt like his heart was literally about to slam out of his chest.

“C-Cas?” Dean asked, hesitant.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, setting the tray down at the end of the bed. He stepped toward Dean, then hesitated when he saw the photo on the floor, the shattered glass all around Dean’s own bare feet. “What happened?”

Dean couldn’t answer. He glanced around the room anxiously, eyes wide with fear and tension as he took in the remaining photos on the desk, the nightstand, the walls. All of them had either Dean and Cas holding hands, kissing, posing with friends Dean thought to be long dead, or stupid photos Dean expected love stricken idiots to take.

But he and Cas… they weren’t… were they…?

Dean was snapped out of his rapidly terrifying thoughts when he heard the sound of a broom brushing glass across the floor. He looked down to see Cas sweep away the worst of it into a pan and set it away in the corner of the room.

Then, he was in Dean’s space, holding his hands and pulling Dean in close, caressing his face and looking at him like the world was ending.

Dean couldn’t figure out why.

“Dean, you need to breathe. Remember? You need to breathe. Let’s sit down, and breathe.”

Dean couldn’t understand what the hell Cas was going on about if he tried. But he let Cas guide him back down to the bed, sitting him down and rubbing his back until he finally started to see straight again.

“C-Cas?” He tried again, hating the way his voice was failing him. “Wh-What the hell just h-happened to me?”

“You had a panic attack, Dean,” Cas said softly. Dean didn’t flinch when his fingers went up into his hair, playing with the strands and tugging gently until Dean felt his shoulders begin to droop. “You haven’t had one in a while.”

“T-The picture…” Dean stared at the shattered frame, still on the floor.

Cas glanced down at it as well.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, kissing Dean’s cheek. Dean blushed darkly, but didn’t respond.

“It’s not like the memory’s broken,” Cas said with a smile.

Dean continued to stare at the wedding photo. He didn’t even want to look at his hand, but he was unable to stop himself from checking.

There, on his left hand, was a golden wedding ring. There was a matching one on Cas’s hand as well.

Dean felt his stomach flip, but not in horror or disgust. Just… shock.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Cas’s tone sounded sad, but understanding. It broke something deep inside him as he looked back into Cas’s eyes, stunned by the emotion and depth he saw there.

“I-I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Cas hushed, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him into a hug. “You’re where you’re meant to be.”

Dean didn’t know why he didn’t fight. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He didn’t marry Cas. He didn’t live on a bee farm with him either. The last thing he remembered, was hanging out with Sam and Cas in the bunker, then heading to bed after a night of drinks and television.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

But Cas’s arms were warm, and his lips were brushing his jaw in gentle motions.

It was wrong. He needed to find Sam.

Yet, he didn’t move. His arms curled tighter around Cas’s shoulders and he buried his face in his shoulder, eyes just high enough to look at the photo on the floor.

“You’re not alone,” Cas whispered in his ear.

And like that, Dean was cemented in place.

…

“Damnit!” Sam cursed, running his fingers through his hair for the tenth time in five minutes. “How could we lose him that fast?”

Castiel stood close at his side, following the younger Winchester through the maze of halls of the abandoned factory.

They’d been hunting a monster. They originally thought it was a vampire, judging by the blood drained bodies. But after seeing it up close, and after Dean’s subsequent kidnapping, they now knew it was a Djinn.

Sam cursed again and ran a hand down his face.

“I can’t believe it got him. How did it get him?” Sam exclaimed.

Castiel sighed tiredly and looked around.

“I don’t know Sam,” he replied. “But we need to find him before his blood is drained. You mentioned the victims were kept in a cool area to preserve their bodies.”

“I did?”

Cas took a hard look at Sam and frowned. The younger Winchester was frustrated, agitated. The angel could understand why, considering the Djinn had grabbed Dean from right in front of them before pulling a lever that restarted the factory, effectively closing off their route to follow the monster and the elder Winchester.

Now they were taking the long way around, and Cas could remember passing at least two maps on the hallway walls, letting them know that they would soon be approaching the back of the factory where the storage areas where. Castiel could hazard a guess, but he expected they would be the cool places the monster had been keeping its victims.

But the fact that Sam hadn’t realized this fact was deeply worrying. Cas reached out and touched his friend’s arm, surprised when he recoiled and, again, ran his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry Cas,” Sam muttered. “I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Did the Djinn touch you?” Castiel asked softly, worried.

Suddenly, Sam’s eyes widened and he touched the back of his head. He swallowed hard.

“I… I think it punched me in the head, right before it nabbed Dean.”

This time, Castiel cursed. He reached out his hand and touched the back of the younger Winchester’s head. Immediately he could sense the poison lurking just beneath the skin. It wasn’t enough to cause severe damage, but it’d been certainly enough to disorient him.

It was healed briefly after, and Sam visibly sagged in relief.

“Better?” Castiel asked calmly.

“Better,” Sam replied. His eyes then darkened, and he looked down the hall. “I really hate Djinns,” he muttered.

Castiel could only nod in agreement. They resumed their journey.

…

Dean wasn’t sure how he got there so quickly, but suddenly he was in the backyard, sitting at a long table as he watched old friends and family members, people he thought long dead, eat and talk together jovially.

There was Jo, Ash, and Ellen and Bobby. There were his parents, as well as Sam and Jess. Dean watched as Castiel spoke excitedly with Gabriel to his right, and listened attentively whenever Cas turned back to him and explained to him the latest experiment his brother had gotten himself into.

Through it all, Castiel held his hand under the table. It was oddly reassuring, and it kept Dean grounded as they ate and talked.

It was all wrong. It was like being on the verge of sickness, knowing that any second you might throw up but never reaching it.

Having Cas near him was better. It was easier to forget. When Cas touched him or held his hand, wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist it was easy to pretend that this was normal. This was reality. Mary never died. John never died. Everyone was together, and they were happy.

Even Sam held full conversations with him, talking about all the normal things Dean had only ever dreamed about. They talked about Sam’s upcoming wedding. They talked about his firm and his recent case, trading jokes about sports and tv shows. Dean even got an eyeroll and a knowing smirk when Dr. Sexy came up. Thank God Jess had a sense of humour.

And then there was Cas. Cas, who never left his side. Cas would didn’t leave him alone for a moment, even after everyone left to go home and he and his husband spent the next hour cleaning up the paper plates and party streamers little kids had left behind.

“What was the party for again?” Dean asked, suddenly realizing he had never even thought twice about it.

Castiel smiled at him. They were now sitting on their porch swing, staring up at the sky above them. Cas had gone inside to grab them a blanket, wrapping it around their shoulders as they drank a couple of beers.

“It’s your birthday,” Cas explained kindly, smile all too soft and understanding. “We were celebrating your birthday.”

In the back of his mind, Dean was once again reminded that something was wrong.

But it was getting easier to ignore. He pushed the feeling away and happily leaned into Cas’s embrace, heads leaning together as they watched the silent sky.

“Do I get a present?” Dean asked curiously, a few minutes later.

Cas chuckled beside him.

“I had something in mind.”

Dean looked at him in wonder, then widened his gaze when Cas leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s.

The touch was soft and slow. It was almost sacred, moving in rolls and pulls, breathing and feeling together until Dean’s back was braced against the armrest and Cas was leaning over him, kissing him soundly like the most treasured item in the world.

It was just like everything he dreamed it would be.

“Happy birthday, Dean.”

…

They’d reached the storage units. Castiel glanced through the doors with small glass windows, hoping against hope to see Dean in one of them. But so far, there was no such luck. Only leftover blood from previous victims.

The thought turned something ugly in Castiel’s chest, and he reminded himself to swallow the rising bile in his throat.

“It’s probably keeping him in the back,” Sam quietly reasoned.

They both held angel blades in their hands, ready to take on whatever they found. They were hoping for one Djinn, but it wasn’t uncommon to find a family.

Castiel was hoping this wouldn’t be the case. If there was a family, then that meant more mouths to feed. And the last victim had turned up dead. There were no other recent kidnappings, meaning Dean was the last one to be taken.

Dean against a family of Djinn was the last thing Castiel wanted. It was probably the last thing he could bear.

“Are you sure an angel blade will be enough to kill it?” Sam asked the deeper in they got.

Castiel nodded.

“They were fashioned for the purpose of being able to kill anything, Sam,” Castiel reminded him. “The only thing stronger is a Leviathan.”

Sam nodded in understanding.

That’s when they heard movement down the hall. Sam raised his blade, and Castiel quickly did the same.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

…

It was afternoon when Dean stretched his arms and yawned, book falling from his hands and hitting the side table as Cas stretched and looked up at Dean from his lap.

“Bored?” Cas asked, blue eyes sparkling. Dean smiled and ran his fingers through his husband’s hair, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

He was so beautiful. Dean didn’t think he ever told Cas that. He was just… unearthly. He was literally an angel, more than just physically, and Dean had never told him that.

Dean didn’t want to keep making that mistake. Not anymore.

“I was just thinking about how much I need you,” he replied quietly.

Cas’s eyebrows rose in question, and Dean chuckled.

“I was thinking that I’m really glad I have you.”

Cas lifted a hand to cover Dean’s own, effectively stilling it so he could bring it back to his lips for a kiss.

“You’ll always have me,” Cas replied softly.

Dean smiled. He could feel a blush rising in his cheeks, but it still wasn’t enough.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead, watched the way it made Cas’s face scrunch up in amusement.

“No, really,” Dean said, a little more firmly. “I’m really, really glad I have you. I…”

“Yes?” Cas looked up at him, softly questioning.

Dean bit his lip, then rolled his eyes.

“I love you.”

His husband’s eyebrows rose, and Dean couldn’t believe he’d never said it before. They were freaking married. How could he have never said that? Not even on their wedding day? Damn, he really was a schmuck.

Cas sat up slowly, reached out and cupped Dean’s face in his hands, bringing him in for a chaste kiss.

“I love you,” he replied, kissing him again, then again.

Dean hummed at the gentle touches, the smooth caresses against his skin.

God, he never wanted this to end. Everything was perfect. He couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted this, doubted Cas.

With his husband, everything was just as it was meant to be. He was always supposed to be here, happy, surrounded by family and the people who loved him. He was always meant to be able to wrap himself in his lovers arms, secure in knowing that he’d be there when he woke up.

Dean had never known a security like that before. And sure, there were lots of great things about his life, but Castiel just made it even brighter.

The slow kisses steadily grew more urgent, and Dean happily reciprocated, even when he found himself on his back and Castiel set firmly on top of him.

“Dean,” Castiel said softly, urgently. Dean smiled and kissed him back, happy to move his hands down to Cas’s hips and ruck up his shirt so he could finally get access to some skin.

“Dean.” His voice was growing more intense. Dean liked it. He worked his hands up to Cas’s chest, smiling when the kisses moved down to his neck.

“Dean!” Cas suddenly exclaimed, and then the hands were gone. There were no more roaming lips or hands, and Cas was straddling Dean’s hips, staring at him blankly, much like he did the first day they met.

The old, anxious feeling stirred deep in Dean’s gut. The wrongness was back, and Dean didn’t want it.

He reached out, grabbing hold of Castiel’s shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

“Cas?” He whispered, fear blooming in his chest when Cas remained unresponsive. “Cas!”

He shook him hard, but still there was nothing.

“Dean,” Cas said firmly, again, all urgency present. Dean paled and stared at his husband’s face.

“C-Cas?”

“Wake up, Dean. You need to wake up.”

“I-I don’t understand--”

“Wake up!”

…

Dean startled into consciousness with a gasp of pain and shock. He blinked rapidly, beating away the tears in his eyes until he could see swimming lights above his head.

The world was still blurry, but he knew he was awake, and this time for real. But it did nothing to stop the shock when he looked down to see massive blue eyes looking at him worriedly, much like the Cas from his dream did.

“C--”

“Don’t speak,” Cas said firmly, but his tone was soft. “We killed the Djinn. You’re safe now, but you’ve lost blood. You’ll be weak for a short while. Sam’s getting you down now.”

“Getting me… down?”

His arms snapped forward when he heard the sound of chains falling, and he all but collapsed into Castiel’s arms, gasping for breath as his arms screamed in pain at the sudden movement.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said honestly. He rubbed his hand on Dean’s back, and Dean shuddered under the touch. “We had to take another route. The Djinn cut off our path.”

“Mm...hm…” Dean squeezed his eyes shut when he felt tears building in his eyes again.

He knew this was reality. He could feel it, just like anyone could feel being dropped in a tub of ice water. It hurt, but it was real.

He shivered again and forced his eyes open. He couldn’t afford to let Sam and Cas see him suffer for something he had in a dream. It wasn’t real anyway. There was nothing to mourn.

He let Cas hold him for another minute before he finally pushed away, determined to stand on his own two feet.

“T-Thanks,” he coughed, nodding to Sam when he cut off the remaining cuffs on his wrists. They were dark and bruised from hanging for so long, but Dean sighed in relief, rubbing them to get the circulation going again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam muttered.

Dean nodded in agreement.

…

The drive back to the bunker was quiet. Too quiet.

Castiel cast worried glances in Dean’s direction whenever he could, but Dean refused to even glance at him.

This had never happened before. Usually Dean would look at him whenever he could, small glances whenever he thought the angel wasn’t looking. But Castiel was always aware. He knew when the human watched him. He could detect it in his spirit, in his longing.

Castiel was not oblivious to Dean’s feelings. In the beginning, Castiel had always assumed it was a fleeting human emotion, something out of gratitude or need.

It was only in the past year or so that Castiel had learned that it was far deeper than that. Dean didn’t ‘need’ people. He’d learned that a long time ago. But seeing Dean now, firmly refusing to even glance at him, hurt something deep inside him that Castiel could barely place.

He was not unaware of his own feelings, either. But it was painful to experience such a strong form of rejection, especially from one of Dean’s most explicit expressions of affection.

Castiel didn’t speak first. It was Sam, who was driving until Dean was back to full strength.

“Was it like last time?” Sam asked softly, as though somehow Castiel wouldn’t hear. “I mean… was it everything you wanted?”

Dean’s shoulders shook, and Castiel immediately knew it was a yes.

Yet, Dean responded tightly, “I’m not talking about it Sammy.”

“Dean, you were in there for a while, even after the Djinn was killed--”

“I’m not talking about it!”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to the window. None of them spoke for the rest of the drive.

Dean filled it with the cranked up volume of Led Zeppelin.

…

Castiel didn’t get another chance to speak to Dean until three days later.

Dean was nearly back to full strength, but it was clear by the elder Winchester’s behavior that he was still far from alright.

Castiel could see it, sometimes. Dean would be eating, or drinking (which he was doing more often, lately), and his gaze would falter, zone out and focus on something unseen in the distance. He would be lost in thought for minutes, sometimes an hour, before someone cleared their throat or walked by, and Dean would snap out of it with a shaky breath and watery eyes that made Castiel want to hide and pretend he saw nothing.

But he was seeing everything.

He could see the way Dean was looking at him, or trying not to look at him.

Shame seemed to be permanently etched on the elder Winchester’s face. It was as though he were incapable of dealing with whatever reality the Djinn had put him through.

Castiel was not dumb. He knew the Djinn’s calling cards. They put their victims in a fantasy land, a place where their greatest wishes or desires came true.

And every day that they passed each other in the halls, Dean would stare at him with such longing it almost blew Castiel away, before suddenly looking away with that familiar look of shame and self-disgust, and Castiel would be left alone wanting to scream and smite the nearest monster off the face of the earth.

It was the third day that Castiel could take no more.

He found Dean in the library, nursing a large glass of whiskey as he studied a book with a near religious intensity.

Castiel immediately knew Dean wasn’t seeing a single word of the text in front of him.

“Dean,” Castiel called.

The man immediately stiffened in his chair, sitting upright and looking up at Cas as though he’d been cornered by a wolf. The thought was wounding.

“We need to discuss what happened at the factory,” Castiel continued.

The wide eyed look of fear didn’t leave Dean’s eyes for a moment. Castiel didn’t care. He stepped down into the room and stood in front of Dean, watching as the man hastily closed his book and kept his eyes down, refusing to even look the angel in the face.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Cas,” Dean mumbled.

“But there is,” Castiel replied solemnly. “You have barely looked at me in three days. You have not once initiated any conversation with me. This isn’t like you.”

“Maybe I don’t like talking to everybody all the time!” Dean exclaimed, but his face was colored in embarrassment. Castiel was almost ashamed to see right through him.

“I was in your dream, wasn’t I?” Castiel asked instead, ignoring Dean’s argument.

Dean suddenly went still and rigid.

Castiel nodded, solemn. So he was right.

“I take it… it wasn’t pleasant.”

“God no!” Dean gasped, finally looking up at him.

Castiel was startled by the level of determination in his gaze, considering his shy and ashamed exterior for the previous few days.

“It,” Dean tried again, suddenly realizing his outburst, “It wasn’t… unpleasant.”

“No?” Castiel asked.

Dean licked his lips, and Castiel stared in wonder. He wished with everything he had that he might enter Dean’s dreams like he did years ago, when they first met. He wanted to know what Dean was thinking. He wanted to know what he saw, what was weighing so heavily on his mind that he was acting so afraid of him.

He waited patiently for Dean to continue.

“I…” Dean started, trying again, but then shook his head. “Forget it,” he waved his hand, turning back to his book. “It’s not possible. It’s no big deal.”

“What’s not possible?” Castiel asked, suddenly intrigued. An idea sparked in his mind, something he desperately wished to try, but he refused to do it if Dean didn’t want it.

Dean looked desperate. His hands trembled into fists, and he briefly glanced up at Cas in fear.

“Forget it, seriously,” he tried again, sounding entirely unconvincing. “It’s really not p--!”

Castiel decided he wouldn’t wait any longer. He leaned forward and sealed Dean’s lips with his own, effectively silencing the man.

Dean went still against him, and Castiel was fairly certain his eyes were still open, unable to comprehend what just happened.

But after a second, then two, Dean’s body suddenly relaxed and he felt Dean’s hands move up to touch his face, guiding him into a more fluid motion of lips and tongue.

Castiel hummed in pleasure at the contact, smiling when Dean tried to pull him closer.

He pulled back to allow Dean to breathe, and he brushed away a stray tear that had escaped his eye.

“What’s not possible?” Castiel asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

Dean beamed.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He kissed Castiel again, and this time, Castiel let Dean pull him in completely.

**Author's Note:**

> me: lovefromdean.tumblr.com


End file.
